In Time
by twiningspines
Summary: A place for ficlets.
1. Chapter 1

The cold of the floor tickles the tips of her toes as she creeps into the living room. She's unsure of the time, but considering the silence, it must be too early for her to be awake. But she's always found comfort in the quiet of morning, and today she finds beauty. **  
**

The glow of the Christmas tree is what catches her attention first, makes the soft curves of her lips upturn at the sight of it covered in fragrant colors, twinkling lights, and a full belly of presents stacked at the base. It makes her feel like a kid again, and those same butterflies are fluttering now, animated in their excitement about the innocence and magical possibilities of the holiday.

Heavy snow is falling from the sky, floating down from the clouds like feathers from pillows, and the view captures her happiness. Her mouth opens, jaw hitting the floor as she slides up to the window.

This is their first white Christmas. And it's _beautiful_.

All the building are covered in snow, the window ledges filled with white tears, the streets completely vacant of people or cars, nothing but piles of unblemished powder. It's almost hypnotic.

She wants to be out there. She wants to _play_.

Her bottom lip slips its way between her teeth, trying to contain this anxious excitement woven through her veins.

Looking at her watch, she realizes it's too early to wake anyone, but how astounding would it be if she were the first one to walk the impeccable snow? Even better, if _they_ were to do it together? The four of them.

This overwhelming her and she doesn't know why. She just knows that she needs him to see this, needs him to be here with her to watch how profound is it to track the snowfall.

But when she turns, he's already there. A smirk lining his unshaven face, hands folded across his chest as he leans against the door frame.

"Come join us," she murmurs, holding her hand out for him. She listens as the soft pads of his feet near her until his arms eventually wrap around her waist, hands coming to caress her swollen belly. "It's her first white Christmas."

"Hmm," he says, kissing her neck. "James's too."

They are both are gazing at her stomach, her hands coming to rest atop his gentle ones, and together they rub soothing circles for their child.

She leans back against him, head curling into his neck, but eyes still forward.

"I want to go outside," she says, a laugh bubbling up her throat.

"It's cold."

"Fresh snow is never cold. Just… delicate."

They watch it fall together, as the snow gets higher and higher, brighter and thicker. Almost four feet now.

"We'll go when James is up," he finally says, voice still deep and gruff from just waking. He kisses her neck again, making her neck tingle from the fine hairs on his chin. He tightens his embrace around her waist, hands splayed wide across her stomach, and it makes her feel warm, safe. "We can have some hot chocolate for now."

She's nodding before he can finish speaking.

"That sounds perfect."


	2. Chapter 2

Beckett gets shot in 1x06

* * *

There's something about falling.

You don't know you're falling until the moment it's about to happen and the moment it's over.

But right now, she's present for every single second as she falls to the ground.

Everything seems clearer here, in this suspended fraction of time.

She can feel the thickness of his hands as they curve around her waist and back, see the fine grains of his chestnut hair as they float back from the wind of the fall. It's almost in slow motion. Her hand comes up to run her fingers through it, finds it soft and thick, silky in texture. And then his eyes, flicking from the shooter to her face in half a second, stunning her with their striking allure.

Right here, right now, she doesn't feel empty, she isn't void of life, she's full on freedom, peace, solitude. Her eyes close, enjoying the free fall, the warmth of Castle's body on hers, and the silence. _Oh_ , the silence.

The silence chases her demons away, erases the pain of a long lost mother who she's abandoned. She wants to live in the silence. Everyday. Her mind has never been so clear. It's astounding.

She screams when she hits the ground.

The pain is searing through her skin, through her flesh, and _fuck_ , through bone.

Where there was peace now is chaos.

Castle is yelling for Diana to call 911 and the sound of his voice pounds against her head, digging into her skull like he's searching for brain matter.

The sound of her own voice she can barely recognize, the groans and whimpers so foreign to her lips that she doesn't even sound like herself.

Baylor is coming closer to the two of them, his gun pointed at Castle's head and she uses her arm to try to shield his face, but her energy has been sucked from her body and can't hold it up for more than a few seconds.

His name is a passing wind from her mouth. No sound, just air.

"Give me the pass... _port_ ," Baylor spits, sweat drizzled along his face and neck. He reaches down for the knockoff purse and backs away with his gun still pointed at Castle. When he's gone, she panics.

"C-Castle," she breathes. "The passport."

"What?" He says, eyes flaring wide at the sight of her. "Oh my God, Beckett! You're hit!"

Yeah, that explains the pain.

"Where?"

"Your chest. Oh God, I moved you, I tried to save you. I didn't think the bullet would really hit you. It must've went through your back. Oh no, Beckett. You're gonna die, but you can't, you are _not_ allowed to die-"

"Caaastle."

There are tears in his eyes when he looks up.

"Baylor's gonna come back."

"Huh?"

"The passport isn't in the purse remember?" her voice cracks.

"Shit. Where is it?" He holds his hands out wide like he's going to pat her down, but his eyes land on her bullet wound, and he freezes, hands expelled in the air, tears piled high in his lids, so close to spilling over.

"I think it's un-under me. Caste, listen. I'm not gonna die, okay? But I need your h-help."

Diana runs out of the bedroom then, screams when she sees Beckett lying in a pool of her own blood.

She can feel her lungs slowly giving up on her, imagines them shriveling like grapes on a vine.

Diana makes Castle start freaking out again and she has to use up the last of her energy reaching for the lapels of his coat, tugging as hard as she can.

"Focus, Castle."

He nods, the extra vigor causing the ends of his hair to shake.

"Get Diana to _shut up_ and call 911."

He's still nodding, but moves from beside her.

A moment later Diana's screaming ceases, and Beckett's never been more relieved. If she's going to die at least she can go in peace.

"Okay, she called 911 in her bedroom. Ryan and Esposito should be here any minute."

"I need you to do one more thing." She wets her dry lips, lets her heavy lids shut for a brief moment. "You need to apply pressure to the wound."

"Of course, yeah."

He's _nodding_ again.

"Castle?" He finds her eyes. "I'm probably going to scream."

"No problem," he scoffs, trying to come off as calm.

"I may e-even pass out. But don't stop the p-pressure until the paramedics get here."

Black clouds begin to line her vision, but she focuses on the man in front of her, how her life is in his precious hands.

"What about Baylor?" he asks, tossing his coat across the floor.

"Give him the damn passport."

And right before she passes out, she whispers her final words, words she never thought she'd say to the writer.

"I trust you."


	3. Chapter 3

Can't remember if I've posted this before but I just found it in my google docs so...

1x07

* * *

It's been too long since she's been held like this.

It feels so good.

The warmth of his large palm, spanning across the small of her back, seeps deep into her skin, and hugs her lonely bones, making her desperate for a firmer embrace.

She doesn't want to admit how good it feels to be in someone's arms, but it does. Even if that someone is Rick Castle.

They sway on the dance floor, neither speaking, but she can tell he has no clue what his body is doing to hers. He's keeping his eyes peeled for their killer, what _she's_ supposed to be doing, but she can't focus because of the strong arms she's encased in.

She catches a couple across the room share an intimate kiss, laughing as they part, and she clears her throat, trying to pay attention.

She pretends to raise up on her tiptoes to see over his shoulder, when really, she's just trying to get closer. Her nose is a touch away from the sensitive skin of his neck, and she can smell his cologne now. The subtle, fresh, elegant scent makes her sigh. Her eyes flicker shut, her own arm tightens around his shoulder, slides around his neck. The hand cradling hers slips from his fingers and she twines it with her own around his neck.

He smirks, his free hand now resting against her back too, doubling the heat soaking into her skin.

"I was tired of holding my arm up," she says, but from his expression he doesn't believe her.

His touch is fire.

He ignites residual desires for love she buried deep a long time ago. One hand climbs the ice of her spine, melting her, heating her to a boil, and she gasps, body begging to be _closer_ , to be touched.

Striking blue eyes glance down to mingle with hers, but they're softer here in this light, darker, full of desire.

He holds her gaze, hands gliding around to her waist, pressing his thick fingers into her skin as they ascend her body before slowly drifting back down. He repeats the motion, winding her up, up, up, until she can hardly keep the mewls from rising out her throat.

She swallows, looks away as a blush rises on her cheeks. Too embarrassed to handle his reaction or what he'll see in her eyes.

All he does is pull her into him until there is barely breathing room, and she deflates, succumbs to the lure of his arms.

He leans to the side, his breath washing against her cheek, warm as it kisses her ear, but the throaty whisper of his voice shoots electricity down her spine, and she quakes, wobbly knees giving out.

"We don't ever have to mention this."

Locking eyes, her teeth pierce her lip, trying to keep any control she has left. But she's a puppet in his strings, her body completely attuned to his.

"Okay," she breathes. "After… _tonight?"_

God, she hopes he understands what she isn't saying.

"After tonight?"

The raise of his brow is slow, but the smirk forming at the corners of his lips lets her know he understands _exactly_ what she's getting at.

She nods, face canting towards his, the thought of his mouth warming hers all too enticing to stay away.

"Then I guess we better solve this case."


End file.
